Adventures Of The Heart
by KKBELVIS
Summary: Season Seven Spoiler Warning! Super short tag to 7-11. Hurt/angst Sam. Big brother/angst/ push onward Dean


ADVENTURES OF THE HEART

By: Karen B.

Summary: **Season Seven Spoiler Warning!** Super short tag to 7-11. Hurt/angst Sam. Big brother/angst/ push onward Dean.

Rated: Obsess much. I can't get that image of Sam curled up against the car door and Dean watching over him out of my head. Thus...this. Thank you for your time in reading.

Disclaimer: Not the owner.

We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. ~Kenji Miyazawa

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_Dusty old shelves._

_Books piled high._

_Pages turning._

_The squeak of a wrench._

_The smell of oil and dirt._

_Laughter and popcorn._

_A child crying._

_A man's soothing voice._

_A bandaged knee._

_Fried chicken and sweet potatoes._

_A baseball and glove._

_More laughter._

_The glow of a reading lamp._

_A warm bed._

_A cold cloth on a flu-fevered head._

_Calamine on chickenpox._

_Chicken soup from a can._

_A ball cap with a small round hole._

_Blood._

_The need to breath._

_The need to prepare._

_Not wanting to prepare._

_Numbers written on a hand._

_Idgits._

_Blackness._

_Soul clutching pain._

_A rock guitar riffs._

_The hum-drum of a car's engine._

_The car's engine cutting._

_The guitar riff ending mid-note._

Sam jolted upright from his awkward position against the glass with a loud and painful moan, eyes darting about.

"Hey," A hand came to rest on his shoulder, "Take it easy."

Dean stared at Sam.

Sam stared blankly back, confused and swallowing hard.

Dean smiled.

Sam blinked away the last of the jumbled dream from his head. A 'who what, when, where the hell are we?' look must have crossed his face, because Dean answered the question before Sam could even open his mouth.

"Gassing up," Dean simply stated, holding Sam steady for a moment longer, before taking his hand away.

Sam could see how hard his brother was fighting back the pain. Clenching his jaw so his chin wouldn't tremble, breathing in and out, and utterly refusing to let the tears come.

"Dean – "

"You need anything?" Dean stopped him cold.

Sam sighed, "No. Just need to stretch a minute."

He opened the passenger door, trying hard not to let his brother see how stiff and sore and sick he felt as he dragged himself from the car and trudged across the lot, not looking back when he felt Dean's eyes boring into him.

Sam stumbled into the stink of the small town gas station bathroom. It was a cereal box of a room – without the prize inside. Good thing it was small, he could hardly move, especially his neck. He shuffled through the mess of cigarette butts, wadded up paper towels, and several beer cans that were scattered across the slim-tiled floor, barely making it to the grease encrusted porcelain sink without slipping. Turning on the cold water full blast, he cupped a hand under the stream of rusty-brown water and ran it over his face. The cold water felt good and he repeated the action four more times. Still he felt like shit. It had to be the remnants of the venom surging through his system – or not.

Sam shut the water off with trembling fingers and slowly raised his head to peer into the grimy mirror. The cracked glass split his face in half. Piece – piece. He'd never be whole again.

Dizziness wobbled him nearly off his feet. "Guh," he groaned, gripping the sink to keep from slipping to the piss-caked tile.

Sam's heart was pounding and his head hurt…wait…strike that…his head was pounding and his heart hurt. Hurt so bad it burned. He stared at himself in the shitty bathroom mirror; pale face, tiered, defeated, hollow, pleading eyes. Damp bangs plastered to the sides of rosy, fevered cheeks.

"Damn it, Bobby," Sam muttered, he wanted to curl up in a corner and cry. Let his heart spontaneously combust.

Instead he turned the faucet back on again and bent to drink right from the tap. The water tasted jsut like its color - rusty - and it slide down Sam's dry aching throat like bad moonshine. He swallowed his tears, over and over, desperately trying to drown the pain, to put out the fire. There wasn't enough fucking water on the planet for that to happen – in the solar system. But still he tried.

He drank and drank and drank, until he couldn't breathe and the frantic slurping turned into coughing.

"Uhng," Sam turned away from the sink with a gasp, dropping to his knees next to the toilet. Everything he'd just drank pouring right back out of him - years of sick and hurt and hell and pain. Sam gripped his chest, his heart wanting to burst into fire.

Bobby was gone and this was how it would end for them all. After all they'd done and after all they'd been through. It would end miserable and pointless.

Sam spit the last of the vomit out, wiping his mouth off on his jacket's sleeve and tried to stand. Dean would want to get back out on the road, and he didn't need his brother finding him in such dire straits. Sam reached up to the sink, gripping the side; he started to stand, but his legs felt heavy and he dropped back down.

_Crap. _In his attempt to put out the fire, he'd only turned up the flame. Eyes slammed shut, Sam half-scooted, half-crawled the two inches it took to lean up against an equally piss encrusted wall. The cold and disgust seeped up from the floor into him and he shivered hard, teeth chattering. Hand still pressed over his heart, a heart that continued to blaze, Sam took in a deep breath and held it. Fire needed oxygen to burn. He'd simply deny it that.

"Stop trying so hard, Sammy." Lucifer's voice seeped in. "You can't win. Give it up."

Sam stiffened, letting loose his hold on his heart and clasping a hand tight over his scared palm. "Shut up!" He yelled loudly, snapping his head back violently, eyes popping open wide when his skull connected painfully with the concrete wall.

"You know you can't take it anymore." Lucifer glared at Sam through the glint of the broken mirror. "Just end it, cowboy, you know you want to," Lucifer said cockily, unending laughter bellying out of him and distorting his image.

The door of the bathroom burst open and a gust of air rushed in igniting the fire in Sam's heart further.

"I said shut …up!" Sam screamed even louder, fingernails curled into the deepest line of his scar and digging in, eyes screwing shut tight.

"I'm coming for you, Sam. You can't stop me with that stupid slight of hand trick of yours. You know that right, Sam?" Lucifer's image faded to the sound of cans clunking against the wall and papers shuffling "Sam? Sam? Sam!"

A hand locked over his and squeezed.

"Leave me alone!" Sam awkwardly tried to scramble to his feet. "Get…get away."

"Come on, Sammy, it's me." A hand pushed softly against his chest, keeping him down.

Sam opened his eyes. "Dean," he gasped.

"Shh. Just me." Dean smiled brightly "I have you. I have you, Sam. Up. Get up," he chanted soothingly, tugging Sam to his feet. "You with me, little brother?"

"Yeah." Sam steadied himself against Dean. "I think so," he panted. "Yeah." He nodded staring into Dean's eyes, then at the mirror, then back at Dean. "Sorry."

"You should be," Dean sniffed, glancing around, "This place reeks," he said and sniffed again, turning back to Sam. "And now so do you." Dean's smile grew.

"Really?" Sam frowned. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because you're such a bitch," Dean smirked.

"Of course," Sam muttered trying to control the tremors that wracked his body. Not to mention the sledge hammer vs. pick axe battle that was going on inside his head and causing his neck wound to throb harder than ever. "Dean, I-" Sam's eyes fluttered upward and he tilted sideways, slumping toward the floor.

"Whoa, Sam." Dean held him up, manhandling and herding him against a wall. "Hold on." He tore a paper towel from a nearby holder, wet it in the sink and dabbed at Sam's sweaty face. "Dude, I thought you said you were with me."

"I was, I did, I am," Sam's vision spun, dizziness surging through him and he dropped his forehead to thump on Dean's shoulder.

"You going to upchuck some more?"

"Dean." Sam swallowed hard. "Don't say upchuck," he panted for control.

"Sorry." Dean clapped a hand to the back of Sam's neck and held him there a moment, their faces only inches apart. "Just give yourself a few, pal."

An authoritative knock came from the opposite side of the door. "Hey, you two finished in there?" Gas station attendant guy poked his head in. "Geeze," he made a disgusting face and shook his head, "You two outta get a room."

"Kiss my ass," Dean growled.

"Yeah, right, buddy, think your princess there might have already done that," Gas station guy snickered, and then disappeared - pronto.

"Ah- guh," Sam moaned pitifully into Dean's jacket. "Why do I always get to be the princess?"

Dean ducked his head. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"No, guess not," Sam grouched, his heart rate slowing, but the burning still there.

"Think you can make it back to the 'piece of shit' car of the week?"

Sam gave a curt nod.

"Sure you don't want to check your makeup first, sweetheart?"

Sam huffed.

"Okay, honey. Come on then."

They shuffled back to the car.

Dean lowered Sam in and then ran around to his side and got in behind the wheel.

"You okay over there?" Dean asked uneasily, watching Sam intently.

"I- I- "Sam shook his head, feeling like a haggard and lost little boy.

"Let me answer that one for you, baby bro." Dean leaned across the seat getting into Sam's face. "You are not going to give in. Neither of us is. You got me?" Dean gripped Sam's shoulder, glaring him down. "We're going to push through this mess, Sam. Whether we want to or not. No matter how empty or painful it gets. No matter how much we want to quit. And when we think we can't stand it anymore… we are going to smile at one another and keep right on pushing through, claw through if we have to. Got it?"

"Smile, right," Sam said, turning to stare out his window, fighting back the tears that wanted to leak out his eyes. "Because Bobby would want us to, "he murmured pressing his hot forehead to the cold glass.

"Wrong," Dean stated firmly.

"What?" Surprised, Sam lifted his head and shifted, locking confused eyes with Dean.

"I'll tell you what," Dean said, his voice strong and full of conviction, "The only way we win… even if we lose… is not to give up the fight."

"Huh?"

"Sam. We take all this empty-emptiness, all this zero plus zero equals zero, we take it all…all this oozing, jumbled, overflowing… burning crap inside," Dean pounded a heavy fist to his chest, "And we use it against them. "He waved a hand out into the night. "Now do you get it, dude?" he asked, eyes full of fire.

"Yeah, dude." Sam's lips twitched, but he didn't smile. 'I get it." He racked a trembling hand through his damp hair.

"That's my boy," Dean reached over and flicked the car's interior lights on, "Now this," he announced in a business sort of tone.

"Now this what?"

"Let me see that neck," Dean said, scooting closer.

"Dean, I'm fine," Sam writhed away.

"You are not fine, Sam." Dean stopped Sam's escape with one hand to his forearm the other palmed to his forehead. "You're sporting a fever, Sport. Now hold still," he ordered, gently angling Sam's head and peeling back the square white patch affixed to the side of Sam's neck.

"F….fffff," Sam hissed, his body jerking slightly, neck muscles taunt as the tape pulled at the edges of the fresh bite wound.

"That's one nasty hickey you got there, my brother," Dean uttered seriously, the first aid kit magically appearing in his hands. "You cheating on me again," Dean snorted.

Sam wished he had a smartass comeback, but right now all he could do was grit his teeth, and drag air in and out between them.

"This is going to sting a bit." Dean wiped the area with a peroxide soaked cotton ball.

"No kid….awe." Sam flinched each time Dean dabbed.

"All right, all right, steady, Sammy."

Two minutes, some antiseptic cream and some fresh dressing later, Sam relaxed back against the seat.

"Where the hell is it?" Dean rummaged around in the kit. "Ah, yes," he said, holding up two small pill bottles. "Tonight's specials are Advil or the good stuff…extra strength," he added. "Pick your poison."

"Dean, I think I've had enough poison for one –"

"Pick your poison, Sam, or I will." Dean smiled holding the offerings up higher, and rattling them like mini maracas.

"Fine," Sam reached for a bottle, "The good stuff."

"A divine choice, miss," Dean chuckled, snatching the bottle away. "Allow me." He unscrewed the cap with a flourish and palmed two pills with equal flourish, handing them to Sam. "Your beverage, sweetheart," Dean laughed some more offering Sam a bottle of water as if it were a bottle of champagne.

"You're hysterical." Sam's tongue swiped his upper lip.

"Yes I am," Dean stated smugly, obviously amusing himself.

"Thanks." Sam handed Dean the bottle, easing his head back against the seat and closing his eyes. "Where we headed?" he asked, sleepily.

"There's a Renaissance not far from here."

Sam peeked open one eye. "Isn't that a bit fancy for us?"

Dean gave Sam a wink. "Silk sheets, fresh flowers, a big fluffy robe, and a mint on your pillow," Dean shrugged, "Nothing's too good for my princess…I mean my brother."

"Bite me, Sam shut his eyes, then struggled to open them again. "On second thought-"

"Bro." Dean gently eased Sam's head down to his shoulder. "Just sleep. I'll watch out for us."

"You always do." A tiny wrinkle of a smile came to Sam's lips as he dropped off to sleep.

The end


End file.
